Love is a twoway thing
by heatqueen
Summary: Makoto gets verrry depressed. Rated M for character death.


She simply stood there, staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyes slid from her face to her naked body, skinny from the lack of eating, her ribs showing through her skin and her hips sticking out from her tiny waist. She looked up again. Her eyes were tearstained from half an hour of crying, but now she had no more tears left. Her jaw was angled and her face was too bony; it had lost all its meat. Her usually soft, brown hair was lank and greasy, and flopped dead down her back. It looked as dead as she felt. That's right – she wanted to crawl away and die. She wanted to shrink into nothing and leave the pain behind. She was in love – that word alone explained everything.

Love was meant to be a great thing, yet at the moment she hated it. It was conquering her, slowly killing her. Was love really such a two-way thing? It was love that brought together many happy couples; yet it was love that caused this pain of being torn apart from the loved one. The one she loved was also in love but with another, and it was driving her crazy not being with her. How she longed to kill the one her love had gone to.

On the edge of the sink lay a knife and she desperately wanted to use it. She eyed it, her mind debating whether this was what she really wanted. If she couldn't get revenge on the one her love had turned to, she could end it. It was that simple. Yet she was unsure if she wanted to end it. Her loved one was a good friend of hers and would be so upset if she decided to end it, and the last thing she wanted to do was upset her loved one. She scowled at the knife. Did it really matter? It would be revenge on her loved one for turning away from her, she realized. It wouldn't matter at all if she was upset. Both her and her lover would be devastated – punishment for all they had done to her. Her hand hovered over the knife.

Then she had an idea. She ran back to her bedroom and grabbed a pen and paper. If she was going to die now, she might as well tell her love how she felt about her. She sat at her desk and scribbled, not caring that she still wasn't wearing any clothes. Nobody would see anyway – she had no relatives, and the blinds on the windows were down. She was all alone; free to do whatever she wanted. This letter was what she wanted. She continued writing.

Then she folded up the letter and walked back into the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door behind her, and standing once again at the sink. She placed the letter on the edge of the sink and eyed the silver instrument with which she would end everything. With the tip of one finger, she ran it across the surface of the knife, feeling its smoothness and the cool against her skin. This knife was comforting: it would ease her pain. She lifted it up, silently apologizing to all whom this was about to affect – all except her loved one and her partner. They would get no sorry for they had hurt her, and they were about to be revenged against.

She stared at the edge of the blade, realizing its wisdom. A knife was a creator: it carved, crafted and formed. It was also a destroyer: it stabbed, slashed and sliced. She recognized at this moment the destroying powers of this great item, for destroying was her every intention. She would destroy herself and end the pain. Then she would destroy her lover and her partner with the grief of her dead body. Did she care? No. She knew she was being selfish, but she couldn't deal with her anguish anymore. She raised the blade.

"Mako-chan!"

She gasped: someone was coming, and she knew who the very voice belonged to. Emotions rippled through her body – love, followed by passionate hate. Envy and fury came in a whirlwind, this being her driving force to do what she meant to do. She plunged the knife.

"Mako-chan, I love you!"

Too late. The anger had consumed her, and led her to do what she'd finally done. Blood spilled down her chest and onto the floor. She started to tremble, and dropped to her knees. Her hand remained gripped around the handle of the knife. She grit her teeth but said nothing as the one whom the voice belonged to wrenched the bathroom door open and gasped as she saw the sight of her kneeling there, bleeding and nearly dead. Makoto raised her eyes to meet the eyes of the other, who was now on the brink of tears.

"W – why?" said the other in a weak, defeated voice. She was shaking all over, fearful for losing her.

"Because," said Makoto, who was now lying on the floor rather than kneeling. "Because…" She spluttered. The wound was finally overwhelming her, and she fought to keep her eyes open for just a bit longer. "Because…I love you too."

Her eyes finally closed.


End file.
